Clear the Air
by Paceismyhero
Summary: Prompt fic from ShadowKitty22. Puck and Rachel have sex on the air. Future fic keeping in line with everything up to the end of season 2. Rated M for language and, duh, sex. Please read and review!


**Author's Note:** So this is quite possibly the worst thing I've written in a long time. I apologize in advance for that, but I'm trying to work through some writer's block and some personally draining stuff and ... this is just the best it's going to get. Hopefully it will spark something in me that inspires better writing, and maybe I'll take a stab at ShadowKitty22's other prompt to make it up to her. Until then, I hope you guys can at least _try_ to enjoy this and let me know what you think (at the very least, the criticism will help me become a better writer!). Thanks!

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><p>Noah Puckerman yanked the door for the sound studio open, growing more frustrated when the suctioned hinges prevented the reinforced glass from slamming into the wall under his force. He worked out every day and he wasn't even strong enough to counteract some dinky piece of metal hardware? And, legit, did everything have to be so shitty in his life that he couldn't even slam a fucking door? Like <em>that<em> needed to go wrong, too? Awesome.

"You're late."

Puck glared at Ryan, his ex-friend and co-worker, while throwing his backpack halfway across the room. It only had one book in it and a shitload of pens but it still managed to land haphazardly enough in the flimsy plastic chair that everything almost tumbled to the ground. Almost, however, doesn't count. It was a lesson he was taught once already this evening and this failed attempt just brought the lesson home _loud and clear_. Again, awesome.

"Alright. That's it for me tonight. I'll be back tomorrow - same time, same place. Until then, keep it classy, San Diego."

Puck rolled his eyes at Ryan's terrible Ron Burgundy impression, taking a vacant seat by the control table and fiddling with a few of the levers. His eyes roamed over to the right to check the time, then down at the song count to see how much time he had before he'd have to go on air. Ryan had set up two songs to play in a row, so Puck had at least six minutes to get everything situated before his show began.

"You aight, dude?"

Puck grunted in response, out of things to do on the switchboard. He rolled over to his bag and pulled out a worn notebook, finding the page he had scribbled on earlier that had his notes for tonight. He usually didn't need them, but his head was such a jumbled mess that he wanted to have it in front of him so he didn't just start adlibbing obscenities. It was bad enough he had gotten used to saying _effin'_ to avoid the FCC, now he was a legit boy scout with some _be prepared_ bullshit? He sighed, considering just playing four hours of music, but even if his boss wouldn't kill him the listeners would definitely be pissed. He had one of the worst time slots for radio and yet his show almost beat out everyone else's in ratings.

People liked to bust his balls about that fact that Puck would probably have more listeners on the channel than everyone else even if he just played static the whole time, but he actually took his job pretty seriously. It wasn't just about him promoting the show around campus and girls tuning in just to hear his voice; he was a senior now and what had once been his foot in the door could actually turn into something serious. He'd already been approached by one of the main rock stations in the city, and they said once he finished his degree in radio broadcast they had a spot for him if he wanted it.

And he did. At least, if he was still staying in New York, he did.

"Well, I'm headed out. Later." Ryan waved goodbye, casually opening the door – almost mocking in how gentle he'd done it. Ryan was a cool dude, and about five inches taller than Puck so even if he wasn't Puck knew better than to mess with him. Unfortunately, Ryan reminded him of another tall guy, and Puck irrationally wanted to beat the shit out of the replica just by association.

He put the bulky headphones on his ears, letting one of the buds rest against his temple so he wasn't completely closed off from the world around him. Despite the late shift, his friends from the football team liked to come into the studio and pull pranks to mess with him, which was probably the one thing his boss _would_ bitch about. They'd already been heard in the background swearing and the FCC fine had come out of Puck's paycheck. Considering it was a student station on campus and he wasn't exactly rolling in the dough with this gig, the punishment had forced him to take a few extra shifts at the bar across town where he also worked.

"It's eleven at night and we're go for Puck on 87X. Tonight I'd like to start off with an oldie but a goodie. It's dedicated to anyone who has been stupid enough to get sucked into the system."

He flicked a few levers and knobs, the first quiet notes of Pantera's "This Love" bellowing out of the tiny speaker next to his ear and through the airwaves. For the first time all day he smirked, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and setting it on the table. He'd already missed two calls and somewhere between the second verse and the chorus repeating the device began to ring again. He ignored the call, tossing it onto the table. He waited until it buzzed to indicate a voicemail, then grinned and hit the switch for his microphone just as the song started to fade out.

"Hot damn. I feel good now." Puck leaned forward, his mouth just barely grazing the microphone. "How about the rest of ya?" He couldn't hear his listeners like they could hear him, but he imagined a loud cheer in the affirmative. "I know it's Friday, but I'm in a shit mood so whatdya say we blow off some steam together? You know the number. Gimmie a call."

Within seconds the board started flashing with callers. Legit, Puck loved his job. It was one of the few professions where he was not just allowed to be completely candid but it was encouraged. The more real he was, the more people related to him. And the more they related to him, the more they tuned in to hear him talk. He didn't always have anything important to say, but he'd taken enough classes in the past four years and had enough experience to run a show. And he was _good_ at it.

Before, in high school, the only thing Puck had been good at was football and fucking – fucking girls, fucking up his life, and fucking his friends over. Then he'd gotten a scholarship to play football at Hofstra College in New York and everything changed. Suddenly he had a future, one that didn't involve prison or a fast food chain. Not many kids in Lima were given a chance like that, and Puck wasn't dumb enough that he didn't take it. And sure, he had a good time while in school – beer pong champion, three years running - but not at the expense of his goals. Not to sound too much like MLK Jr., but ever since leaving Ohio, he had a dream.

He pressed a few buttons so the caller could be heard over the airwaves, then pressed the switchboard to pick up the line. "Go for Puck."

"Hi, Puck." A young woman giggled, a hiccup punctuating the humor. "I don't have any steam to _blow_, but …"

Puck grinned at the coy way the girl trailed off, her friends in the background equally amused and inebriated. His cell phone started to ring again and he pretended not to notice before clearing his throat and asking, "What's your name, wildcat?"

The girl giggled again, her voice dropping down an octave as she whispered, "Erica."

He hummed in response, ignoring the text message that vibrated his phone. "You got a boyfriend, Erica?"

"Yes," she answered despite the loud protests of her giggling friends in the background. "But I'd rather have you."

Puck stopped smiling, his hand clenching the microphone tightly. Her words had been innocent, playful even, but they just reminded him of everything that had gone down just a few hours ago. If it hadn't been for his work schedule, he'd be shit-faced by now, but instead he was completely sober and desperately trying to get out of his own head. Just a second left to his own devices and his blood was boiling, thinking about her. About _him_.

His bad mood instantly crept back up, seeping out of his pores and into his voice. "You know … that's the problem with you broads. You pretend to be committed or whatever, make us say all the right words and crap when you don't even care. When _you_ don't even mean them!"

The switchboard lit up just like his cell, and Puck swept his hand across the table so the portable phone flew across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the ground, still eagerly buzzing despite the crack he could see on the screen. He turned his attention back to the front, bringing the microphone closer with one hand while the other sifted through the station's music collection for the perfect song. He was about to click on Three Days Grace's "I Hate Everything About You" before the studio door flung open (as best it could) and her voice stalled all movement.

"Noah Amos Puckerman!"

Rachel stomped inside the studio, the hem of her dress flowing up high on her thighs because she was moving so quickly. She gripped the top of the headphones, yanking them from his head and almost choking him in the process. She had fire in her eyes and her other hand was clenched so tightly at her side that her knuckles were white. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he wasn't sure if it was a cause of her anger or the long trek she just took in record time but Puck figured she was going to blame him regardless.

"Present," he joked casually, inwardly wincing at the thought of his full name being spread all over campus in what would likely only be a matter of minutes. To think he almost made it the entire four years without that secret becoming known. "And for those of you listening, Ms. Rachel _Barbra_ Berry just stepped into the studio."

"Put on a song, Noah. Right now!" She growled, pointing at him with the crumbled up Post-It that had been hidden inside her fist. "I want to talk about this!"

"Well tough." He rebelliously pressed one of the buttons on the switchboard to pick up another call. "Go for Puck."

He half-listened to another blonde (he just assumed) giggle in his ear while the other half of him was thinking about how hot Rachel was when she was pissed. She was all flushed and flustered, her movements erratic but determined. She slammed her hand against the table, rolling the other seat under herself and sitting down next to him. She placed the other set of headphones gingerly onto her head, her eyes scanning the multitude of controls before finding the box that operated the microphones. She flicked on the lever for her mike, leaning closer to it while tossing him a defiant glare.

"Excuse me. I know you all love Puck, especially the girls, but let me tell you what happened just hours ago at my apartment."

Puck moved both microphones to the off position, narrowing his gaze on her. "I'm working, Berry." She made no motion to leave. "You can't be here."

"Tough," she echoed, flipping back on her microphone. "For those of you who have been doped by his unprecedented charm, Puck and I have been involved for two and a half years." He tried to flick her microphone off again, but she guarded the box carefully. "I came home this evening with a friend and …"

"Not _a friend_," Puck interrupted, quickly on his own microphone. Game on. "Her ex-boyfriend."

"From high school!" She defended just as fast, pleading her case to him and to his audience. "Who also happens to be one of Puck's closest friends."

"Before he tried to take my girl!"

"Which is something you've done to him before."

"Exactly!" He answered, as if she'd just helped his point instead of hers.

She rolled her eyes, flipping off his microphone so she could talk. "As you can likely tell, Puck overreacted to the situation. He actually _forbade_ me from going out to dinner with our friend."

"It was a date!" Puck snarled into his microphone, covering the on/off box with his hand so she couldn't silence him again. "Guys, call in if you wouldn'ta done the same damn thing. And keep in mind this _friend_ isn't just some random ex but the effin' love of her life. Legit V-card thief and everything."

"Noah!" Rachel reprimanded loudly.

Luckily for the listeners Puck had turned off both microphones and turned on a couple of songs while he waited for some good phone calls to come in. He yanked off his headphones, tossing them onto the table before standing up and moving to the far corner of the studio. He ran his hand through his Mohawk in frustration, his eyes eventually moving back to Rachel.

"So how's Finn?"

Rachel lifted her chin higher, turning just a little more so he couldn't see her face. She used to do the same thing when they were eight and she was refusing to talk to him, and it was just another thing about her that hadn't changed. Sometimes he wished there had been more things like that – more things that he recognized. Everything changed so fast that he was always waiting for them to change back. Then again, clearly there were some things that he wished were different.

"Must not have gone well if you're here. Alone."

Rachel had been granted early acceptance into Julliard in November of their senior year of high school. The last semester had been spent with her and Finn fighting constantly up until graduation, when they officially broke up. Finn ended up going to Ohio State for football, right alongside Quinn and a bunch of other kids from their school. The predictability of what happened next was not even worth thinking about, but what no one ever predicted was Rachel and Puck hooking up again.

_Including him_.

It was about an hour commute between Hofstra and Julliard, but for whatever reason the two of them kept in touch. He was in the city a lot with his friends or just exploring and he'd run into her. She'd wonder out loud if it was fate considering _all_ the people in New York and they run into each other, and he'd humor her or make a crude joke as per usual. Sometimes she'd call just because she was trying to stay connected with friends from back home, but usually they'd just text or email. After a year, the frequency of the communications increased and when he offered to drive her home to Ohio for the summer something in their relationship shifted.

They spent the entire summer hanging out, whether it was in a group with the other glee kids that had come home or separately. She'd bother him while he was cleaning her dads' pool and he used to show up unannounced at her dance studio to watch her teach a class. They'd go to the mall or the movies, take walks through downtown, or just chill by the lake. It sort of felt like they were little kids all over again because it didn't matter that she was a freak in high school or that he had been a juvenile delinquent.

When they were together, they were just Noah and Rachel.

Right before they were set to leave for New York, he'd dragged her to a party being thrown by a new senior at McKinley. They'd both had a few drinks, but not enough to blame them for their actions. Halfway through the party, people recognized Rachel and started harassing her for attending the event. She wasn't cool enough, they said, and something in Puck snapped. He'd ended up in a huge fight with like four or five huge dudes and legend has it he actually won. The blood that Rachel ended up cleaning off his face once they were back in his truck said otherwise, but the way she'd so gently taken care of him was all the proof Puck needed.

He'd won alright, and when she was blowing softly on the spot she'd just applied some ointment (that she just happened to have in her purse) to, he'd turned and kissed her. It had taken her by surprise, but it wasn't the first time they'd kissed, either. There had always been a spark between them, and they'd both been ignoring it for long enough that it finally combusted. Things heated up quickly, and they'd had sex for the first time right there, in his truck outside of a high school party they'd both just been kicked out of. The next day, they'd left for New York as a couple and hadn't looked back since.

_Since_ today.

"He wants you back."

Rachel turned to face him, tears in her eyes. It wasn't a question, but he wanted an answer anyway. "Yes."

Puck scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. He'd messed up the relationship thing a few times, but it had never been out of jealousy. With Quinn it was a lack of commitment, and with Lauren it was partially the same thing and partially fear for his life. His relationship with Rachel had been the first to last longer than a year, and it had survived plenty of fights and missteps in that time. But this thing with Finn, he knew what was going to happen.

Typically if Finn were going to be in town, which didn't happen a lot but did a few times since they all graduated, he would call or announce it way beforehand; it was hard to travel hundreds of miles on a whim. This time, though, he didn't call. He didn't text anyone, and he hadn't made any plans. It was March and even though football was over it was still mid-terms for everyone. There was only one reason Finn would suddenly make the trip to New York and that reason had been on Quinn's Facebook page last night.

_Quinn Fabray changed her relationship status to "It's Complicated"._

Puck shook his head while making his way back into his seat, thinking _complicated_ wasn't strong enough of a word to describe the crazy love rectangle they still had after all these years. He flicked on his microphone and then pressed a button to pick up one of the lines. "Go for Puck."

"Yo, Puck! You did the right thing, bro!"

He smirked at Rachel's huff of a reply, thanking the caller before picking up another line. "This is 87X. You're go for Puck."

"Does this mean you're single?"

Rachel uncrossed her arms, swiftly hanging up the call and pressing another line. Puck chuckled into his standard greeting, waiting for the caller to identify him/herself.

"Did you go?"

Puck looked at her, telling her with his eyes and the subtle motion of his head that the caller was talking to her and not him. She huffed again, replacing the headphones she'd taken off and settling into the chair a little more comfortably. She moved the microphone back in front of her and then flipped the switch so she could be heard. She could have just used his microphone, but clearly she didn't want to be close to him right then.

"Yes, I went. And it was _lovely_." She glared at him through the corners of her eyes. "He'd just broken up with his long-term girlfriend and after I explained that I wouldn't entertain any efforts of his behalf to win me back, we enjoyed a pleasant dinner and caught up like old friends do." She sniffed, avoiding Puck's gaze. "Then I came home to my apartment to find a Post-It on the counter from Puck saying that our relationship was over."

He winced at not just her words, but the way she said them. Rachel was a wonderful actress who could cry on cue, but she rarely showed much raw emotion outside of a performance. She'd dealt with enough bullying in school that she tried to hide her vulnerability and she hated to sound upset or, like just now, broken. And even though he still thought his actions were justified, he immediately wanted to take them back because he could see the pain he'd caused.

"Please, _anyone_, call in if you agree with what Puck did. Because, honestly, I'm having trouble understanding." She risked a glance his way. "And since he refuses to talk about it like a _mature adult_, I suppose I'm dependent on your thoughts."

She didn't hesitate in picking up the phone calls, and the general consensus was that Puck was a prick. He should have been more understanding, more trusting, more of a man. That last one really bugged him because it had been advice that he was fairly certain had come from a gay guy. The girls, however, hadn't been any nicer, saying Rachel was better off. The chick on the line now was giving the standard Lesbos-stick-together speech before Puck couldn't take it anymore.

"Look!" He blew out a hard breath, refusing to look at her. "She made the choice. She went out with the guy even after I _told_ her what the doucher wanted."

"What about what I want?"

He scoffed, flipping off her microphone. "That's what it is always about, right?" He shook his head, acid in his tone. "Little Miss Broadway gets everything she wants and it doesn't effin' matter who gets steamrolled in the process."

"This is what I wanted?" She questioned, not needing her microphone when they could hear her fine from his.

"Don't act like you don't love the drama," he sneered. "You get off on Finn and me fightin' over you. You're just pissed I ain't playin' the game anymore."

"I'm _pissed_ because we've been dating for almost three years and you have no idea who I am!" She shouted. "I'm pissed because we've been together this long and you still have no idea who _you_ are!"

Puck flinched at the ferocity of her words, moving to switch off the microphone and start a song but Rachel switched her microphone back on. They continued the tug of war for a full minute, playing the same few seconds of one song in their silent battle to gain the upper hand. Puck ended up losing out of frustration, stepping away from the entire control board in haste. He paced the small room for a few seconds, turning around when his temper was under control.

"I hate that you compare yourself to him," she whispered. "Not just because you don't see yourself clearly enough to highlight all your amazing attributes, but … to me there is no comparison, Noah."

Rachel bowed her head, slowly moving her eyes to the control table and deciding to play some music. This conversation was between the two of them and didn't need to be literally broadcasted out into the world. She stood from her seat, turning to face him but keeping her distance. She wrapped her arms around herself, eventually finding the courage to look back up at him.

"You've been _everything_ to me for the past four years, Noah. And I know we haven't really discussed the future outside of abstract thoughts, but I promise you it has nothing to do with Finn."

Puck felt some of his frustration die down, her words penetrating those areas inside him that he guarded the most. She was the only one who'd ever been able to push her way past all the barriers, and it actually really sucked when they were fighting because it instantly gave her the upper hand. He preferred to lash out and piss on the consequences, but she was always so damn calm and reserved. She only yelled to talk over him, and even then she wasn't saying anything hurtful but rather cutting his balls off with the truth of her words or some shit.

It wasn't like he hadn't changed at all since high school; college and being in an actual relationship had certainly matured him, but that didn't mean he still wasn't stupid sometimes.

"The fact that you consider Finn the love of my life breaks my heart." He heard her voice quiver and instead of punching a wall he wanted to punch himself. "But I refuse to be told who I can and cannot be friends with. I also refuse to believe you can be so barbaric as to demand such a thing." Rachel stared deeply across the room, pleading with her eyes. "I also refuse to give up as easily as you, so what do I have to do for you to know I love you?"

Puck inwardly cursed because she fucking did it again. If Broadway didn't work out (it totally was going to, but whatever) she should seriously consider being a lawyer. She already talked like a walking thesaurus and she had the emotional manipulation down to a science. Maybe she could combine her acting skills and her calling as an attorney and be on one of those _Law and Order_ type shows. That would be sweet.

"Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Puck sprang toward her, taking two swift strides before crashing his lips against hers. Legit, he wanted to fuck her the second she came into the studio and she couldn't utter those words and him not have every single fantasy spin through his head like a damn dradle. He added a tight pinstriped pencil skirt and a form fitting blouse that was subtlety see-through to the attorney show idea and logged it into his spank bank for later. Right then he didn't have to rely on fantasy because the real thing was right in front of him, not just in arm's reach but _in his arms_.

Rachel actually whined into the assault, but her arms wrapped around his neck to signal it wasn't in protest. He held her just as tightly, holding her flush against him while his tongue crept into her mouth. They dueled for dominance in just one of the many ways they knew how, Rachel eventually winning when she used her teeth to bite down on his bottom lip, pulling on it gently. It was something she'd learned he loved way back during junior year and used to her advantage constantly since they started dating. She probably would have drawn blood if it hadn't all rushed south.

"I fucked up," he grunted, pushing her against the table until she got the hint to sit on the flat surface, her legs circling high on his thighs. "Finn … the note … all of it." He kissed her through his exploration of her mouth, groaning when her hands snaked underneath his shirt and her nails teased the sensitive skin of his abdomen. Generally he was ticklish there but his skin was too hot to feel anything other than the desire poised on her fingertips. "Fuck, baby."

When her hands trailed lower, scratching against the crotch of his dark-wash jeans, Puck's hands moved to the table just to support his body upright, his eyes closing tightly. He tried to concentrate on buzz kills like his Nana and sister hooking up or dead kittens and shit, but even things that fucked up only brought him down to about a nine on a horny scale of one through ten. She'd managed to unbuckle his belt and force his jeans and boxers down to his ankles all while still swirling her tongue around his and yet his hands fumbled behind her just to clear off the area.

"I'm sorry. Sooo sorry," he drawled, his hands moving to her waist and urging her further onto the table. He wasn't just saying it to get laid. He actually did regret that he was such an insecure little bitch. "Please, babe," he begged, settling between her legs when she rested her feet on each of the studio chairs, her dress riding up so high that he could have seen her underwear if he was practically fused to her center. "I gotta have ya."

"You do," she choked out, her head falling back on a whimper as Puck's hands meandered between them to remove her underwear. "Forever." Insecure bitch or not, she still wanted him. Good thing she was so talented because clearly she wasn't all that bright. "Take me."

No matter how stupid he still was sometimes, she didn't have to ask him twice when it came to sex. This wasn't the first time and it would be far from the last, but he wasn't going to take his time to savor the moment, either. He entered her in one powerful thrust, each of them letting out a strangled groan at the contact. She'd been on the pill since before they started dating and he was never more thankful for that fact than in these types of situations. Sex was the one area where he forced himself to think before he acted, but he loved the freedom of wanting her and having her in almost the same second.

Rachel hooked one of her arms around his neck while the other clung to his back, bringing him down with her until she was leaning against the controls of the table. Puck nipped at the skin of her neck, marking his territory in a way he hadn't done since high school. He knew it wasn't necessary; she'd all but told the world (well, a good portion of the Hofstra student body) that she loved only him, but he was a guy and that wasn't good enough. Until he got that ring on her finger that said she was taken, he would have to rely on less suitable means. Sue him.

"You're so fuckin' hot, babe." He rocked against her a little harder, earning the whimper he'd been shooting for. "And you're mine." She hummed in response, her back arching into him when he rolled into her again, the angle managing to stroke that spot inside her that left her short of breath. Her chest was on display and he suddenly wished he hadn't skipped all the foreplay. He curled his back as much as he could while still pivoting into her and managed to run his tongue from the top of her cleavage, over the column of her throat, and against the sensitive skin behind her ear before growling, "He can't have you."

"I don't want him," she rasped out, sucking in a much-needed breath when he pulled out just to have it ripped from her lungs when he plowed back into her. "I want you."

Her voice had been so primal, so animalistic that it drove Puck crazy. He could feel her nails digging into his back underneath his shirt and in the far recesses of his mind he liked to think that she was marking her territory, too. It only made him move faster, the steady rhythm lost in the frantic movements. He snaked one of his arms around her lithe waist to force all of her body to press against him, burying his face into her neck as he felt her walls start to clench around him. He could feel her heavy breath against his ear, heard the cacophony of her pleasure rolling through her, ending with a high-pitched gasp that triggered his own release.

"Shit," he hissed, his breath ragged as his body slumped against hers. Puck could feel her heartbeat stuttering against his chest and it somehow made him feel more connected to her than the way they were. "I love you."

Rachel sighed dreamily, her eyes finally fluttering open and focusing on his as he pulled back slightly. "I love you, too." She paused for a nanosecond. "Asshole."

He chuckled roughly, his laughter rumbling through her before he sat up. She coyly adjusted her dress and fixed her hair while he redid his jeans and belt. Puck managed to tear his eyes off her when in his periphery he saw his cell phone – still laying on the ground by the wall he'd flung it at earlier – moving across the floor as if it had been ringing nonstop. He knitted his eyebrows together, turning his head back toward Rachel and noticing with wide eyes that every single phone line had a caller on the other end.

He didn't mean to be a dick, but he literally pushed her away from the table, his jaw clenching and a curse muttered when the small red light for _both_ microphones shone back at him. He could feel Rachel's stare on him and after she'd gotten over him manhandling her, he could feel the realization of what had happened wash over him like a wave. More like a rip tide considering they were in so deep.

Reluctantly, Puck pressed the first line. "Legit, how much was on air?"

Rachel and Puck both flinched at the piercing squeal of the _guy_ who was on the line, gushing over how hot their encounter had been. Five other callers were equally impressed, Puck's reputation back and better than ever, middle name be damned. Neither could say for sure, but it was pretty obvious they'd hit the switches for the microphones somewhere near the beginning. There were too many girls swooning over his apology in addition to his prowess for them to have only heard the end. It sucked because he wanted to blame her for bending down to lie against all the equipment, but instead figured it had happened when he was haphazardly trying to clear some space for her to rest.

And they say chivalry is dead.

"Well, I'm just gonna play music for the rest of the night," he said into the microphone, tossing his arm over Rachel's shoulders as she buried her face into his neck. He could feel the heat of her embarrassment against his skin and he couldn't help but laugh. "We're gonna go and do that all over again."

"Noah!" She reprimanded, her hands falling to her hips as he flicked off the microphones and cued up one of the pre-made playlists. "You are supposed to work until three."

"Rach …" He tried to hide the humor from his voice, but he couldn't. "Even if we hadn't just had sex on air, I said the word fuck at least three times."

He shook his head, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder before sliding his free arm around her waist. She handed him his smashed up cell phone and his thoughts were further confirmed when he glanced at the call log. Everything from earlier had been Rachel, and everything after had been his boss at the radio station. And while he and Rachel had patched things up, Puck was pretty sure he wouldn't have the same outcome at the station.

He was fired.


End file.
